


candy cane

by CrazyPrepared (writerofberk)



Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [9]
Category: Trolls (Movies 2016 2020)
Genre: F/M, and god said let there be mutual pining. and he saw that it was good.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofberk/pseuds/CrazyPrepared
Summary: "Hey," Poppy says, "you want a candy cane?"(But it's not a candy cane she gives him.)
Relationships: Branch/Queen Poppy (Trolls)
Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053290
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	candy cane

" _Rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party_ _hop_!"

It's only ever a matter of time before the Pack bursts into song—Poppy would sooner cut off all her hair and never hug another troll again before she would stay quiet for longer than ten to fifteen seconds, and she always finds a way to drag her friends into it with her—so Branch can't say he's surprised at the sudden chorus of Christmas carols all around the room.

" _Mistletoe hung where you can see_! _Every couple tries to stop_!"

Doesn't mean he's not surprised to hear it come out of his own mouth, too. It's reflex, instinct, automatic—he doesn't think about it until it's already out there.

" _Rockin' around the Christmas tree_!" Poppy claps a hand to her heart, eyes squeezed shut and head tossed back, her fuzzy felt flower crown knocked askew and a red-and-white candy cane hanging half out of her open mouth. " _Let the Christmas spirit ring_!"

"Be careful," Branch pastes a shiny red bow on the present in front of him before he slides it neatly to the side to make room for the next. "You're going to choke on that thing."

"Pfft!" Poppy opens her eyes and waves a hand at him. "Don't worry, buddy!" Like _that's_ a thing he can do. "I'm not gonna choke!"

But she reaches up and pops it out of her mouth anyway—and the sticky-sweet peppermint clings to her bottom lip, to her soft, full bottom lip still gleaming faintly with a touch of her favorite raspberry lip gloss, and she slips her small pink tongue out of her mouth to lick lightly up and down the candy cane and it would be so easy to lean in and—

—and Branch is staring.

Branch is staring _a_ _lot_.

He turns, too quickly, back to the pile of presents, a bright blue blush blazing like fire in his face, and he just has to hope from here to Bergentown and back again that she didn't _see that_ —

"You know what?" Poppy jumps to her feet. "What do you guys say to a cup of hot cocoa? 'Cause I could totally go for a cup of hot cocoa right about now."

"With whipped cream?" Biggie says.

"You know it!" Poppy tosses him a wink and a thumbs-up before she spins around on her heel, her new green dress flaring out around her long legs, to look straight at Branch. She clicks a finger a gun at him. "Branch! My man! Come give me a hand?"

"Uh," Branch blinks blankly up at her for a second before it clicks—he doesn't know what she needs _him_ to do, hot cocoa has to be one of the easiest things in the world to make, but he scrambles to his feet, anyway, and brushes a few stray flecks of glitter off his jacket. "Yeah. Sure."

Poppy skips off, half a step ahead of him the whole way out of the room, and Branch trails her into the warm, bright kitchen, where he heads over to the cupboard to get out a small saucepan from the top shelf—he's been in here enough times now to know where she puts her dishes, and it's easy enough to find it even in the dark cabinet.

She takes the pan from him. The back of her hand bumps lightly against the back of his. She puts the pan on the stovetop.

He's alone with her for the first time since that day in his bunker—he can still feel her hair under his fingers, soft as silk even all tangled up with stars and string, a sea of pink he could have drowned in, and she _let_ him do that, she _let_ him touch her like that, she let him _touch her hair_ , and _she_ touched _his_ hair, and—

—and she leaned in like she was really going to—

Poppy glances up at him, and he has to wonder if, maybe, she's thinking about the stars in her hair, too, if she's thinking about that half-second, that heartbeat where she leaned in and he leaned in, where she _looked at his mouth_ the same way he's tried not to look at hers for the past ten years now, like she wanted to—like she really might—

"Hey," she says, suddenly, soft and serious, "you want a candy cane?"

But she's not.

She's not thinking about it, because _of course_ she's not thinking about it, why would she be thinking about something that didn't mean anything to her, why would she be thinking about something that didn't mean anything to her at all, why would it _matter_ to her?

"Yeah," Branch says numbly. "Sure."

"Good," Poppy says quietly.

She tips her head back and leans up on her toes and presses her mouth to his.

And the entire world just kind of stops.

Because she's kissing him.

_She's kissing him_.

_Poppy_ is kissing _him_.

She's doing _a_ _lot_ more than kissing him—she's _touching_ him, her hands warm and firm on his chest, on his shoulders, on his cheek, and her breath comes hot and fast in his mouth, and her tongue flicks against his, and _holy_ _mother_ _of_ —

He kisses her back.

He doesn't touch her—he _wants_ to, because of course he wants to, just look at her, she's _Poppy_ , of course he wants to touch her, he wants to touch every last inch of her, he wants to learn her body and her skin until he knows it all by heart, he wants to grab her waist and run his fingers through her hair, but he _doesn't_ —he doesn't want to trap her, he doesn't want to make it so she can't get away when she wants to get away—he just settles a hand loosely on her left cheek and kisses her back, deeper and deeper and deeper—

Poppy pulls back.

She doesn't take her hands off his chest.

He doesn't take his hand off her face.

His mouth tastes like candy canes.

"We should—" she whispers, breathless, flushed, but smiling so hard her cheek lifts under his hand, and he _has_ to run his thumb lightly over her dimple, he just _has_ to, he can't see her smile and not want to _touch_ — "—we should make the cocoa."

"Yeah," Branch says, but he can't stop staring at her mouth and he can't take his hand off her cheek and he can't stop smiling. "We should."

(They don't.)

**Author's Note:**

> 🎶 kiss me, babe, it's Christmas time 🎶
> 
> okay, this was meant to be the fic for tomorrow, but you know what, i just couldn't wait any longer to let them kiss, which i think is very sexy of me. plus, this one kind of bleeds into yesterday's piece (wrapping) so there's that. also, i know we all love Branch being one (1) smooth mf, but consider: smooth Poppy. that is all. she's too powerful to NOT be a suave bitch, and i think we all know this. so she's a suave bitch. 
> 
> can't believe we only have three fics left now!! thank you guys so much for sticking with this series!!


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